Arcane: Bond Beyond Death (R18)

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...

The leader of The Fangs started beating up Bael, but to his surprise Bael threw up Shimmer. "What the..." He mumbled.

Then, Bael's entire bruises healed in no time, which shocked everyone.

The leader of the Fangs gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. He lunged at Bael again, slamming a fist into his face with all his strength. The impact sent Bael's head snapping back, but instead of crumpling to the ground, he merely straightened his posture, rolling his neck as if shaking off a mild inconvenience.

A deep, purple glow pulsed through his veins, crawling up his neck and illuminating his arms. His wounds closed instantly, bruises fading like they had never been there.

"The fuck is this?!" one of the gang members shouted, stepping back in fear.

The leader, however, refused to accept what he was seeing. "I don't care what kinda freak shit this is," he growled, "you're still just a dead man walking!"

With renewed rage, he threw another punch. Then another. Then another. Each time his fist connected, Bael barely even flinched. The sickening sounds of impact echoed through the dimly lit space, but the effect was the same—Bael healed instantly, his body restoring itself in real-time.

The gangsters who had been cheering just moments ago now stood in stunned silence, watching their boss unleash everything he had, only for Bael to stand there, unfazed.

Bael tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening. "Getting tired yet?"

The leader's breath was ragged, his fists aching from repeated impacts that had accomplished nothing. His knuckles were bloody—but not from Bael. They were split open from hitting him so much.

"What the fuck are you?!" he finally shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

Bael stepped forward. "Me?" He wiped the last remnants of Shimmer from his lips, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "I'm the guy you should've never fucked with."

Bael's body moved before his mind even registered it. The moment his hyper senses kicked in, the world slowed to a crawl. Then, Bael struck.

His mechanical fist slammed into the leader's face with devastating force. The air cracked with the impact as the man was launched backward like a ragdoll.

Before the gang could react, the boom-boom tattoo spread like wildfire across the leader's face, glowing with an ominous light. Bael didn't hesitate.

"This time, there won't be no mercy." His voice was steady, final.

A pulse of energy surged through his fingertips. The tattoo ignited.

The explosion was instantaneous. The leader's head erupted in a violent, concussive blast, sending chunks of flesh and bone flying in every direction. The sheer force splattered blood across the stunned onlookers, painting them in crimson. His decapitated body slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Bael rolled his shoulders, his mechanical arm still pulsing with residual energy. He turned to the rest of the gang, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous, unspoken promise.

"Who's next?"

His loyal members rushed forward while the scared ones remained in their place, anyone who'd get too close would have a boom-boom tattoo appear on himself, causing his death the very next moment, after three kills, the rest settled down

"Who's next?" He asked, though this time, there was no response, nor oral, nor physical.

"Thought so..." He mumbled under his breath, glancing at the pile of bodies behind him.

"Guess... Yeah, guess that makes me your new leader now. Work with me and we'll leave this prison in two days. Rebel, and be transformed to mince meat." He said, grabbing the decapitated body of their former leader, causing murmur and gasps.

The game was set now. Mercy wasn't a concept in Stillwater Hold, and Bael was going to play by the game.

...

As Bael returned to his cell, Beca woke up to the silhouette of Bael in front of the moonlight which barely showed him. His eyes were purple crimson, blood dripping from his hands and his hair messy.

Beca got shocked for a second, thinking it was the devil come to take her. "Goodnight, Beca." He said, going to sleep.

"Good....Night...." she mumbled.

The next morning, in the cafeteria, Bael was sitting in the usual spot where the leader of the Fangs sat, even wearing his necklace. This caught everyone off guard, as it didn't take a genius to realize that he overthrow the guy's rule. The Fangs sat beside him, some were scared.

Vi stood at the far end of the cafeteria, her tray of food forgotten in her hands as she watched Bael in stunned silence. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart hammered against her chest. The boy—no, the man—she had once known, the one she had failed, was now seated at the head of a table, a position of absolute power. His eyes, those eyes she used to know so well, were now sharp, cruel, and void of the softness they once held.

The necklace that hung around his neck was a silent symbol of his dominance, and the Fangs who gathered around him, though still visibly apprehensive, were unmistakably loyal now. She watched as Bael effortlessly commanded their attention, his very presence casting a shadow over the room.

The scene was nothing like what Vi had expected when she first saw him. The boy who had been left behind, the one who used to be her friend, had transformed into someone else entirely. Gone was the look of hope in his eyes, the boy who used to dream of escape and of saving Jinx. In his place was a cold, ruthless leader, a person capable of unimaginable violence.

Vi's mind raced as she processed what she was seeing. She had always known Bael to be resourceful, but this? This was a completely different level. The Fangs, the ones who had once terrorized the lower levels, now followed him like lambs to the slaughter. There was no more doubt—Bael was in control now. She knew that. But what she couldn't reconcile was the person he had become.

She had always been able to see through people. To read them. But Bael? He was a mystery now. His eyes weren't the same; they were colder, more dangerous. His whole demeanor screamed of someone who had been hardened by the world around him, someone who had learned to trust no one.

And then there was the matter of the Fangs. Vi had fought against them before, had seen what they were capable of. But now, they weren't her enemies anymore—they were Bael's underlings. He had single-handedly overthrown their previous leader. He had killed the man who had once ruled over them with an iron fist. And the way the Fangs now looked at him—it wasn't fear. It was admiration, perhaps even loyalty.

Vi felt a cold chill run down her spine.

What happened to you, Bael? she thought, the question echoing in her mind.

The room was still, the tension thick. Bael didn't look up at her. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. It was as if she was a ghost to him—someone he no longer recognized.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the person Bael had become. She had left him behind, and now... now she was faced with someone she didn't even know anymore.

How did this happen?

She had to look away before anyone noticed the confusion and concern in her expression. She was a stranger in Bael's world now, and it hurt more than she cared to admit.

But the fact remained: he had changed. And Vi had no idea if the person she once knew was even still in there.

Three days had passed since Bael was taken, and everything seemed to fade into darkness for Jinx. She was still locked away in the cold, dimly lit cell at Silco's hidden compound, the walls closing in on her with each passing hour. The room was silent except for the occasional dripping of water somewhere in the distance, the sound of it almost mocking her solitude. She hadn't eaten or drunk a single drop of water since Bael was torn away from her, the pain in her chest keeping her from even thinking about anything else.

His face, his touch, his voice… She couldn't shake the memory of him—how he had been there for her when nobody else was. He had been her protector, her reason to keep going. And now he was gone, taken by the people who had always been her enemies, and the thought of losing him made everything else feel insignificant. Without Bael, there was no reason to fight, no reason to breathe.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, almost imperceptible sound from the door—footsteps approaching. Jinx didn't even look up.

"Jinx," a voice called softly.

It was Singed, he tried studying Pow-Pow Eta for the past three days but no success.

The weapon, it didn't let anyone approach it, it was beyond Hextech or shimmer, it was godhood, Bael's work was that of a god.

Only she, apart from him, could use the weapon.

Jinx's breath hitched, her chest tightening as memories flooded back, crashing through the veil of despair. She remembered it like it had just happened yesterday—the warmth, the closeness, the feeling of safety that only Bael could give her. She could still feel the touch of his hands on her skin, the way he whispered her name in the dark, making her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

His promise.

Bael had promised her, "I'll never leave you. I'll always be there for you." Those words, spoken softly in the heat of their intimacy, lingered in her mind. A promise that she had held onto with everything she had. A promise that, no matter how many times she had been abandoned, she would always have Bael. He was the one constant in her chaotic, broken world. He was the reason she still breathed, still fought.

Her hands trembled as she grasped Pow-Pow Eta, the weapon that he had built for her, the weapon that now felt like the last piece of him she had left. She wouldn't let Singed use it. She wouldn't give in to his demands. Bael had been her anchor, and she refused to believe that he was gone for good. He had always come back, hadn't he?

Her voice broke the silence, raw and defiant. "I'm never gonna do what you want, Singed. Bael will come back... he will rescue me." The words tumbled from her lips like a lifeline, her heart desperately clinging to the hope that Bael would return, that the promise he made was still real.

Singed stood still, watching her with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "Bael?" he scoffed, the name dripping with sarcasm. "You think he's coming back to rescue you? He's a ghost, Jinx. A ghost you've created in your mind. He's gone, and you're here, trapped, just like everyone else."

Jinx shook her head, her eyes narrowing with cold determination. "He'll come for me, just like he always does," she whispered fiercely. "And when he does, you'll regret ever thinking you could control me."

With that, she lifted the weapon in her hands, her fingers tightening around it as if drawing strength from the very memory of Bael. He wasn't gone. Not yet. And when he returned, Singed would pay for underestimating her—underestimating them.

"Very well." He said, dragging her forcefully from her cellar.